


we go down together

by tatsuhiisa



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Azure Moon Spoilers, Canonical Character Death, Drinking, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Petting, Minor Character Death, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 19:10:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21307148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatsuhiisa/pseuds/tatsuhiisa
Summary: If we go down, then we go down togetherThey’ll say you could do anythingThey’ll say that I was cleverIf we go down, then we go down togetherWe’ll get away with everythingLet’s show them we are betterThere is a time and a place; in the midst of a war, drinking in your decrepit, abandoned classroom as you grieve the death of an old friend, is neither.
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 7
Kudos: 65





	we go down together

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've written in like, 4 years, so thanks FE3H for giving me that kind of drive. This one's for me and the other five Lorenzfuckers out there. Takes place in-between A and S support, inspired by the event that happens in the Blue Lions route where you find Lorenz as one of the Imperial generals, and can spare him if you recruited him pre-timeskip. Oh, the trauma.

Byleth had plenty of experience starting a fire. On occasion, back when she was just a child-turned-mercenary traveling with her father, they didn’t always find themselves in adequate housing. That meant camping, and that meant Jeralt teaching her basic survival skills. Hunting, foraging, mending clothes, finding suitable shelter, starting a fire. Those were, ironically, much simpler times.

Crouched in front of the Blue Lions classroom fireplace, she repeatedly struck the flint against the bundles of scrap wood she’d collected in the worn-out room. Pieces of broken chairs, torn tapestries, whatever she could find that couldn’t be salvaged. The fire still wasn’t starting, and she began wondering if the wood was too rotted, damp with mold, until she was surprised by a little flame clinging to an old royal blue cloth. Byleth added some smaller pieces of wood to kindle the fire, until it began to spread and grow, and she welcomed the flash of heat in contrast to the chilly evening air of mid-Great Tree Moon.

She wasn’t exactly sure what had possessed her to call him to their old classroom, specifically. Well, It had been his classroom for a shorter amount of time than the others. But the memories swirled into the air nonetheless. Byleth stood, brushing away the dirt and soot that clung to her cloak, and glanced toward her desk. 

She remembered when he’d entered after she’d dismissed a class on authority; he sauntered right up to her with a passionate glint in his eyes, and asked if he may transfer into to her class. She’d been surprised-- such a proud noble of the Alliance, was asking to enter the class of Kingdom students? But it was far from her to deny his request; he was a talented mage, skilled with a lance, and even more impressive on horseback. The young man would certainly prove to be a valuable addition to her class. And she didn’t mind his company, either, despite his ostentatious mannerisms and speech, and self-importance when it came to his social station. It was easy to see, after speaking with him a few times, that despite his first impression, he was a very compassionate and caring boy, and would put the needs of the many before the needs of the few. His world view was skewed, but that was something a little perspective could rectify. 

A little smile tugged at her lips, as she recalled him so fondly. She wondered how obvious it was, how she’d favored him over even the crown prince of Faerghus. Invitations to talks over tea, always sticking his unit so close to her own on the battlefield. Their vow at the Goddess Tower, the night before her father was taken from her… There wasn’t anyone else quite like him.

And when she’d woken up… he was the only face who hadn’t arrived to greet her.

She jumped a little, caught up in her own thoughts, when she’d heard the sound of footfalls approaching, and she turned her head towards the entrance to the classroom. It was silly that he’d scared her, she’d asked for him to meet her here, after all.

“Is there a reason you chose this place in particular, out of literally any other place in the monastery, Professor?” Lorenz intoned, examining the room’s state of disarray with obvious distaste. “Typically, such a meeting for tea would take place in the garden, or even your quarters.”

“I never said anything about tea,” Byleth answered, instead holding up a large glass bottle, a label with pristine cursive writing dubbing it Goneril Marron.

His brows raised in surprise at that. “Oh? The surprises are endless when it comes to you, Professor. Reputably, I could not find it within myself to decline the invitation, but I had, indeed, planned to argue it was much too late to share tea.” Lorenz smiled, and gracefully strode his way to the fireplace, where Byleth had positioned two chairs for them.

Byleth looked him over, pleased to see he too was dressed down --as much as Lorenz Hellman Gloucester could be-- without his armor and his elegant hands exposed to the cool spring breeze filtering through the room. She procured two glasses, handing one to him, deftly removed the cork with the blade of her dagger, and poured him a generous glass before filling her own.

“Thank you,” he said, bowing his head, then cleared his throat as she sat down beside him. “Which begs the question-- why have you invited me here, at this hour, in this place?”

“I simply wished to speak with you, privately, if that’s all right,” she told him honestly. “This seemed like the best place. It’s been difficult to find a moment for myself these days. I can’t recall the last time I’ve invited one of my students for tea…” Byleth wasted no time bringing the glass to her lips, tilting it just enough for the pool of red to travel to her mouth.

Lorenz held his own toward the light of the fire, swirling the wine around to examine its color and particles. “Sharing a glass of wine at this hour in our abandoned classroom is hardly teatime. And no longer are we your pupils.”

“That’s true. Each of you have been fighting your own battles for years now, grown beyond your former selves, holding your own. While I merely… slept.”

His lips had only just met the rim of the glass, before he paused and lowered it, shaking his head. Lorenz’s brows furrowed, halfway between concern and confusion. “I’m afraid I still cannot wrap my head around that… We were certain you were… lost to us, after the battle, five years ago… And you reappear at exactly the right time to assist in the reassembly of Faerghus, and with His Highness at your side, no less. You’ve thus far managed to amass an army great enough to confront the Empire and its generals. Were I a more devout believer, I’d call it a miracle.”

“I’d call it luck,” Byleth answered, taking a long drag of the bitter ferment.

“And tireless effort.”

Her half-lidded gaze fell unto the crackling glow of the fire. The fire offered brief respite from the cold of the chilly spring, warm enough to de-thaw her cheeks, but not the ice lingering in her chest. “Though I wouldn’t call what transpired at Myrddin a success… I’m not proud.”

Bowing his head, Lorenz’s face fell into anguish, an assuredly similar guilt gripping his heart. “Yes… Ferdinand… It’s… truly a tragedy. He was willing to die for what he believed was right. It’s something from a knight’s tale, is it not?” Despite his quiet chuckle, his words were completely humorless, causing Byleth to bristle.

What could she say, as one of those responsible for the death of Lorenz’s friend, one of her former students-- a young man full of hope for changing the future, pride for his family and country, and boundless devotion to those around him. “I wish I could have been able to speak with him… but he had long decided what he was willing to sacrifice, hadn’t he?”

Byleth heard a solemn hum of agreement beside her, as Lorenz took yet another drink of the Goneril blend. He appeared not to hold Ferdinand’s falling against her, but she wasn’t sure that made her feel any better. Almost as if she felt she deserved to be on the receiving end of his wrath. It was no secret that he was hurting, maybe more than herself.

“Yes. He couldn’t have been reasoned with-- He’d lost so much already, there was nothing left for him to lose. I know that. I know there was little that could’ve been done. But it helps me sleep no better at night. I stood idly by as he was slain, at Edelgard’s instruction… and while I can’t sympathize with Adrestia and the Emperor’s cause, my heart still aches, knowing that we will strike down those we once called friends, if we must.”

Byleth swallowed thickly, the taste of wine burned in her throat. “That day…” She hesitated to voice her fears aloud, to admit to something so personal, that had shaken her to her core. 

Silence befell them, before Lorenz at last took a long sip from his glass, to allow himself the courage to address the elephant in the room.

“I sincerely believed I was next, Professor. I watched as a cherished friend was pierced by His Highness’ lance, and then… across the bridge, not far down the battlements, our eyes met. And I was sure I would die by your hand.”

Her eyes widened, and Byleth whipped her head up from where it had been fixated on the fireplace, to brand her gaze on the man beside her. Quietly, his name crept up her throat, a breathless whisper, “Lorenz…”

“I felt… relief.”

Byleth didn’t respond, frozen in shock. Relief? 

Lorenz continued, his expression raw with emotion-- rage, regret, grief, frustration. Byleth had never seen him wear such a distressed face, even if he wore his heart on his sleeve. “I had no choice. Given Gloucester’s proximity to the Empire, the strength of Edelgard’s army, our territory could have simply been razed at her command. Of course, my father was more than comfortable rolling over and showing his belly to the beast as it bared its fangs, but I can’t say I would have made a different choice, were I in his position. To oppose the Adrestian Empire would have meant the death of innocent civilians-- of course we would bend to their show of force. But I cannot agree with the Emperor’s agenda! To join their army was in the best interest of my father, but to attempt to… to unify Fódlan in bloodshed, to simply… take the lives of those who disagree, of those that are too weak… It sickens me. I am a traitor to first the Alliance --I can only imagine what Claude must think of me-- and now, the Empire. I was certain that was it for me, when you came at me, blade in hand. You thought me a traitor, too.”

It was then, as Lorenz drove that final verbal impalement home, that Byleth decided she wouldn’t tell him how much it hurt, to see him across those enemy lines-- and how boldly he’d vowed to defend his position, a general of the Empire, as if to taunt her. 

But Byleth knew him. She’d quickly understood the situation with the young noble not long after the battle had begun.“You needn’t explain your reasons to me-- I already know. That’s just what you would do, to ensure the protection of your territory and the innocent.” 

A tremor in her hand made the liquid in her cup slosh a bit, before she cleared her throat and brought it to her mouth to finish what was left. She would need it, to continue. “When I saw you, across the bridge, it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to save Ferdinand-- I’d hoped to persuade him into joining our fight. And I failed him. Lorenz… I thought I was going to have to kill you as well. I was afraid you wouldn’t hear my voice.”

The room fell still once again, aside from the flames splitting the wood before them. What perhaps unnerved Byleth the most was the lack of shock in Lorenz’s indigo eyes-- they looked striking in the light of the fire, like emblazoned amethysts, and Byleth’s lips parted as she detected the ghost of a smile on the man’s visage.

“Were it to come to that…” He paused, only to grab the bottle of wine from the table behind them, and courteously refill his professor’s cup. Once it was carefully placed back down, Lorenz returned his attention forward. “I’m sure in my dying breaths, I would have thanked you. For freeing me from the prison of war. From obligation to my father’s wishes.”

Byleth frowned, leaning toward him earnestly. The ache where her heart should be was _unbearable_. “Please… I can’t stand to hear such a thing. You’re here now. I won’t listen to you tell me you would _thank_ me if I were to kill you.”

Lorenz, continued, despite her pleading. It was something he needed to say. “You struck me with that impressive relic of yours, I fell from my horse… You approached with what I anticipated to be the finishing blow. But then… you outstretched your hand to me. And for a moment, I felt no pain from my injuries, and it was as though the Goddess herself was granting me a second chance to make things right.”

An incredulous laugh was punched out of her. The audacity… to make something such as that, a very tumultuous moment in her life, like the prose of sacred scripture. But Byleth shouldn’t have expected anything less of Lorenz. “Has anyone told you that you romanticize things too much?”

The nobleman’s smile spread, even reaching his sad eyes for a moment, clearly proud of himself. “Fairly often, in fact. But it holds true. If it were to be anyone that would take my life, it should be you.”

Byleth was once more shaken to her core. Just how was she supposed to respond to that? How was she supposed to feel? What was he thinking, saying such a ridiculous thing… Thankfully she didn’t have to sit on that confession for very long, about what it was intended to mean, before Lorenz started to speak again.

“Now that Myrddin has been claimed by the Kingdom, I can rest easy for the citizens of my territory. And though I’m sure my father has some choice words for me over my rash and defiant decision to defect, he can hardly be unhappy about the new security. And I know now I can fight alongside you, and strike the oppressor. Maybe, one day, after the war is over, I can return to the Alliance as a hero.” 

That notion alone was enough to cause Byleth to smile softly. “You’ll have to. Because we aren’t losing this war.”

He looked back to her, his eyes reignited with his usual vigor, and Lorenz looked as brilliant as ever. “I’d very much hoped you’d say that… I’m confident that Edelgard’s reign of terror won’t be long for the world at this point. Not with someone as remarkable as you summoning these winds of change.”

His light was infectious, and Byleth felt the guilt lifted off of her shoulders, and if the feeling were fleeting, so be it. For just this moment, she was blinded by Lorenz, and she would allow herself the indulgence of being comforted by his radiance. After finishing her second glass of wine, she set it down on the table, focusing her attention solely on the elegant man at her side. “I’m glad that you’re here. If I’d had your blood stained on my hands… I’m not sure I could have forgiven myself.”

She could hardly help herself. Byleth leaned in, her hand delicately slipped beneath the silky smooth cascades of hair near Lorenz’s face, and her fingertips gently drew over his cheek. He stared at her with comically wide eyes for but a moment, before he composed himself, his mouth falling open with a gentle, if ragged, breath.

He wrapped his hand around hers, offering a dashing, fond smile. “I, too, am glad I’m here. I can’t imagine myself any place other than at your side.”

He tilted his face to the side, carefully connecting his lips to the skin of her hand, placing a delicate kiss on her palm, a seal to consummate the reality of his proclamation. The touch sent little sparks through Byleth’s system, and briefly she wondered if it might be some subdued magic he’d cast on her-- well, that may be one way to put it, after all.

Their eyes don’t divert from one another for even a moment, and Byleth feels wholly vulnerable under his gaze, like Lorenz is breaking her open at the seams as her contents threaten to spill out before him, for him to examine and pick apart. It’s a conversation without words, and Byleth is only just beginning to comprehend what it all means.

Lorenz was the first to break the silence, still holding her hand to cushion his face as he tilted into it. “Professor… _Byleth_. May I confide in you?”

It took a moment for her to respond, swallowing down the cotton-feeling sprouting in her throat. She was sure this was the first time he had ever called her by name, and it bore a foreign, fluttering heat in her cheeks. “Of course. What is it?”

In this moment, Lorenz lifted his other hand to examine his still half-full wine glass, and smiled at it sheepishly. “I’ve never had much of a taste for wine.”

She blinked, now taking notice of the fact that, yes, he had barely touched the drink. “I… I’m sorry, you _what?_”

“Naturally, knowing what goes into making quality wine is something of required knowledge of a noble, and the partaking drinking itself is, of course, high-class -- to drink when offered, not to the point of inebriation -- which I fear is growing nearer, as I reach the bottom of my glass…”

Withdrawing her hand finally, Byleth gestured to him, a bit exasperated. “You’re not close to the bottom of your glass yet, Lorenz… Why didn’t you decline? You absolute fool…” she laughed.

“You extended to me the invitation, it’s below me to fail demonstrating my gratitude toward a generous host--”

“Depressed drinking at midnight to mourn the fallen in a dusty classroom isn’t the same as high tea!”

“Perhaps not. But far be it from me to come across as rude…”

“You are… unbelievable.”

Lorenz raised a hand in an attempt to placate the woman, and remedy the situation. “It doesn’t taste bad, it’s simply not my preference. This is a very good wine, in fact… not something you could get from just any merchant.”

“Yes, I had it specially imported! From _the Alliance! Goneril_, all the way from _Fódlan’s Throat! For you!_ I thought it would suit your palate!”

He stared at her for a few moments, before laughter began to bubble up from his chest, and soon spread to the professor beside him, and her own quiet hum of amusement was drowned under his boisterous mirth. Her shoulders shook nonetheless, the humor not lost on her, and… the moment soothed the ache in her chest. To think she might have missed out on hearing his laugh and seeing Lorenz smile again. Since she’d suddenly awakened after a five year slumber, she’d spent months wondering what became of him, why he wasn’t with the rest of them, stationed at Garreg Mach, but was simply too afraid to hear the answer. Byleth didn’t want to hear it if he’d fallen in battle, simply abandoned their cause, or joined sides with the Empire. But there he was, at her side, where she simply inexplicably felt he truly belonged.

His giggles began to calm, and Byleth wasn’t sure when their chairs had come so close together, but she leaned her head upon his un-armored shoulder, taking this rare moment of rest and cherishing it, with a person she’d recently come to realize was an essential extension in her life.

Lorenz didn’t appear to mind the contact, taking a breath to finally settle down. “I believe a congratulations is in order, for succeeding in getting something as trivial as wine imported in a time of war. That said… I really do, from the bottom of my heart, appreciate the thought-- and the time here tonight, spent with you.”

She nestled closer into his shoulder. “You say that like you’re prepared to leave.”

A hum rumbled in his chest. “If we stay here much longer, it runs the risk of us getting caught.”

“‘Getting caught’? Are we up to something indecent, Lorenz?” Byleth teased, as she stroked a hand down his chest, fingers catching on the ornately sewn designs in the fabric of his perfectly tailored overcoat.

This caused Lorenz to glance away with a hand covering his mouth, his cheeks tingeing pink, and she couldn’t help but think he looked a bit like a bashful maiden. “O-of course not. I only mean that people love to prattle on and gossip, there would be… unsavory rumors…”

“Ah. I see. You think people will decide we’re sleeping together, if word gets around about our late night rendezvous. Afraid of tainting your sterling reputation?” In a bold move, Byleth moved to straddle his lap, draping her arms over his shoulders and snaking them around his neck.

An indignant noise of surprise left him, and his deft hands that were surprisingly soft despite their time gripping a lance and casting magic found her shapely hips, resting tentatively as Lorenz gazed up at his former teacher, stunned. “You know it isn’t like that-- if anything, your reputation is at stake-- I’ve yet to prove myself worthy of y-- _h-hah!_” He yelped, his body jolting upward, his hips bucking Byleth, the result of her velvet lips latching onto the tender skin of his neck.

This enticed a small gasp from Byleth, and her fingers curled into the silky hair at the base of his skull. She pulled back and studied him for a moment, to gauge just how he was feeling about her sudden advances. “Lorenz. I’m just so glad to see you again. I’m relieved to see that you are alive and well. To have you back here with me… please, let me show you.”

Lorenz said nothing, instead looked at her, a bit overwhelmed, but his pupils wantonly dilated nonetheless, and he nodded his assent. The mercenary didn’t wait any longer to strike, practically clawing at his clothes, and sealing her mouth over the most sensitive flesh beneath his jaw, shamelessly untying his cravat and pulling the split of his collar apart to expose even more of his slender neck.

“You’ve always been striking,” Byleth admitted, lathing her tongue over a spot she is positive has already bruised as purple as the rest of him. “You’ve really grown into a handsome man…” Her head dips beneath the veil of his hair, and her teeth nip at his earlobe.

“It-it was never an argument, who the most ravishing, fetching being to grace the grounds of Garreg Mach is-- even then… Surely you knew.”

“I did not,” she replied candidly, but kept her focus on leaving marks on Lorenz’s body that surely monks, knights, and friends alike would be talking about for the days to come. “I don’t care about the consensus… What do _you_ think of me?”

The nobleman didn’t miss a beat, and Byleth couldn’t be sure if he’d had his answer on reserve, or his heart had realized it before even he had found the words for himself. “I think… I think your beauty is the most undeniable, arresting, spellbinding; noblewoman, commoner, _Goddess_\-- out of anyone that’s ever existed. All of those around you are left envious and awestruck by your presence, your power that you wield so effortlessly and provocatively. Even the most vivid of young rose blossoms pale in comparison--”

A light laugh lilted in her voice. “Save the verbosity for your poetry.”

“You’ve been the muse of a hundred poems bled from my quill already…” Lorenz readily admitted, though his cheeks quickly deepen their already rouge tint.

“I would love to read them some time, if it’s not too personal.”

Instead of responding, he simply made an aborted choked noise of embarrassment, but distracted from that by taking action. His hands slowly dipped, following the curves of her back, until they came to meet the plush of her rear, and he was rewarded with the beautiful woman above him gasping and grinding her hips right down on his scandalously hard erection, already leaking from arousal into his underclothes.

This wasn’t proper, Lorenz very quickly concluded, not only embarrassed by the state he already was finding himself in, but this was neither the time nor the place for… premature acts of passion. Not in the rubble of their classroom, not whilst grieving the death of a friend, not when the world was in the state it was in; it would be selfish, to indulge in these un-discussed feelings, at a time when they were both so emotionally raw and wounded.

“Byleth… I’m afraid we should stop,” Lorenz told her, disappointed but decided.

Pulling back from the open-mouthed kisses she peppered along his jawline, Byleth gave him a worried once-over. “Why? What’s wrong?”

He frowned deeply at her obvious displeasure, and he momentarily felt as if he’d failed her. But he knew this was the right course of action. “This is… not an ideal location, and not to mention, we’ve both had quite a bit to drink… I would hate for you to do something you should regret. I’d sooner draw a dagger along my own throat before I’d dare take advantage…”

“Don’t even joke…” Byleth begged, cupping his cheek. She didn’t remove herself from his lap, but she exhaled gently, understanding what he meant. Wrapping her arms around him, she hugged him lightly, and she felt his hands as they gingerly settled on her back. She closed her eyes, inhaling his familiar scent of bergamot and lavender. Truly, she’d never felt as much ease in the last few months as she did in that moment, embraced by him. “Lorenz…” She placed a lingering kiss on his cheek, and they both understood its finality.

Lorenz smiled; it was compassionate and optimistic. “After the war… I would very much love to pick up where we left off.”

She nodded, resting her forehead against his, and their eyes bore into one another’s. At last, Byleth thinks she understood exactly what it was she was feeling for Lorenz. What had started as a measly bud was beginning to blossom beneath the loving sunlight, and she could see the rose for the beautiful, precious flower that it was. 

“Promise me we’ll both see the end of this war. Promise me I won’t lose you again.”

He grinned, on the borderline of smug, but his eyes sparkled with sincerity and passion. “I swear it. I will remain beside you, until this infernal war reaches its conclusion. And even beyond that. We’ll go down in history… together. You have my word.”

“Or your name isn’t Lorenz Hellman Gloucester?”

“Or my name isn’t Lorenz Hellman Gloucester.”


End file.
